The Man on Mount Silver
by Cinnamon-Scents
Summary: It was a nursery rhyme he had heard from a passing stranger when he was eight. It was what he had hummed while climbing the mountain, pretending the shivers weren't from fear but cold. It was the awful truth that Gold faced upon the peak of the mountain. Isn't it always told that every story has a grain of truth?


Gold had first heard the nursery rhyme when he was eight. It's cheery folk tune covered it's truth, and he had sung it carelessly with neighbouring kids as the pretended to battle. He remebered playing the fated champion, a king who ran from his crown, while his childhood friends pretended to use Pokémon to fight.

 _He roams on top_

 _On top of the sky_

 _Where they all battle_

 _When they meet his eye_

 _Those who met him on Mount Silver_

They had all watched the boy of the song win the championships at the tender age of ten. He was a prodigy. He dissapeared less then three months later. The nursey rhyme came from a passerby, who after seeing his Pokéballs, Gold challenged. Humored, the teen agreed, and asked where. When Gold pointed to Mount Silver, barely visable in New Bark Town, the teen paled. He chanted the rhyme, and it's haunting words imprinted into the soon to be trainers brain.

 _Time did pass and rumours flew_

 _Of how his Pokémon were frozen blue_

 _Rotting and stinking and buried were few_

 _Those who met him on Mount Silver_

Gold remembered demanding the trainers name and why he refused to to battle on Mount Silver. At the time, it was the upmost importance. Four years later, climbing the very mountain he was warned against, Gold can only remember it had been a colour, much like his own name. Hazardous, full of blizzards and making him obnoxiously cold, Gold couldn't actually why he had come up. At first, he had come to the reigon to escape the publicity. He couldn't, and after beating all of the champions here, he followed the tales of Red, who was only two years older then himself now.

 _Most return, bitten and cold_

 _For they made their mistake_

 _Being to bold_

 _They tell tales, but they all did go_

 _Those who met him on Mount Silver_

Fifteen. Gold was fifteen today. Running out of food rations and only two thirds up the mountain, Gold took shelter in a cave, humming to himself. Setting up camp, Gold became worried when he found a shattered Pokéball on the ground. Following the trail of smashed containers, Gold froze upon seeing the trail went up, and a battered, red cap lay abandoned on the ground, a rope beside it. Gripping the hat, Gold packed up camp, then sprinted up the path, his Pokémon in tow.

 _Determination fades but all who tread_

 _Tell of the man with eyes of red_

 _His skin is pale and hands are blue_

 _His lips are sealed from silence too_

 _But all who fight him always loose_

 _Those who met him on Mount Silver_

The battle had been intense, but Gold had won. In a morbid, twisted way, he had won.

The boy, only seventeen, had no emotion in his eyes when his Pikachu hit the snowcovered ground, sliding to a stop. He had no emotion when he shook Gold's hand, handing over a small, golden pin; using a Max Revive to make Pikachu open his eyes again, before returning it to his Pokéball. He had no emotion when Gold breathlessly stated his first words to the former Champion of Kanto, the one he had mercilessly ripped his title from.

Red had heard him over the howling winds, when Gold could not hear himself. He did not speak, but nodded. Desperately, Gold had followed him to the cave, begging him to come home. Red ignored all of Gold's pleading, leading him to a box. He guestured for the younger boy to open it. Inside, six Pokéballs laid. A soft voice spoke, and for the first time in seven years, Red spoke.

"Take good care of my team, they do not deserve to follow my path."

When Gold spun around, all that was left was a battered red cap, no boy in sight.

 _Now listen well and listen close_

 _Don't go to the Mountain where he froze_

 _You will battle and you will lose_

 _Against the dead man on Mount Silver_

 **This was based of a creepypasta I read a while ago, where Red and his team were dead from cold, but still battled against Gold, who also ended up dying. I couldn't remember the story, so I took some liberties. The background to this story is Red got tired of the media and the stress, and ended up killing himself on Mt Silver, which is why in HG/SS you see him in his normal trainer clothes, not something appropriate for the mountain weather. His Pokémon retreted to their Pokéballs after his burial, and ghost Red is only freed after someone beats him, which happens to be poor Gold. I made the lyrics to the nursery rhyme up myself, so if you want to use them for something, you can. Just please send me a link so I can see it, and please source me!**


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